


Love Letters and a Fire Lily

by lechatnoir



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Blood and Sand
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 05:56:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/745067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lechatnoir/pseuds/lechatnoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They dance a dance and die in a flurry of flames, and yet they are reborn across multiple millenia and his kiss is as sweet as it was the first time that Pietros kissed him and he thinks he can hear the familiar 'coo' of the birds that he had wanted to strangle countless times but didn't. </p>
<p>(in which it is a mix up between canon!verse and AUs all rolled up into one)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Letters and a Fire Lily

i.

He remembers the roar of the arena, the cries of the crowd that is not an arena filled with people anymore, but instead it morphs into a sea of monsters and demons and he thinks he can slowly breath, slowly remember the adrenaline that rushes through him, crackling like lightening underneath a hot river of blood that courses through his veins.

(He forgets his name, forgets the name of brothers and sisters, of a mother and a father, forgets how to breathe, until the sand seems to suffocate him like a viper and the blood of the dead rains upon his face underneath the burning glare of the sun that seems to smile at his misery like a cruel siren of destruction.)

The mask comes on and it is the Beast of Carthage that tears the arena to shreds, a man who seems to command terror and respect and yet there was a delicate tether that seemed to be locked away inside of him, somewhere amongst the dark corners and crevices of his mind that seemed to be filled with birds and the thought, the need to protect.

(He thinks of Pietros, thinks of how he cannot afford to die, cannot afford to fail.)

The Beast of Carthage takes off his mask and reveals the man underneath, a man who loves and is loved, surrounded by the birds of an old friend and lover, and he thinks that they’ll escape away from this wretched place, some day soon. 

ii.

The first time they meet, he thinks of lilies and gold when he sees Pietros. 

(He tries not to stare but there is something that pulls him to the boy, something that he can’t explain , except that Auctus’ birds seem to coo and nip at his hair in annoyance until he grew impatient with them and eventually got the nerve to go and break words with the young man.) 

Pietros thinks the man is a mountain and a warrior but that there is a hidden kindness to him – he has seen the way that Barca has tended to the birds, seen as he has grown annoyed by them and they with him and yet he could have wrung their necks if he so chose to do so and he doesn’t.

They eventually fall into a dance with each other, whispers and hesitant smiles that eventually turn into kisses and words of freedom.

Many seem to think that the Beast of Carthage has no emotions, that he can slaughter newborn children from their mother’s arms and laugh while doing it, that he can slaughter and kill and not bat an eye .

(They do not know of the names that he whispers in his prayers when falling asleep with Pietros in his arms - _Mago, Elissa, Cyprian, Auctus_ \- of the many more that he calls brothers in the solitude and silence that permeates the cell) 

Pietros knows, it is why he kisses him with gentle lips and holds him close , and the birds coo a song up to the moon that shines through the window in return. 

iii.  
He feels the water and rain pouring down and he can feel the press of the knife against his throat but the only thing running through his mind is _Pietros_ and the need to _protect_ , to get _away_ , far far away where the Romans would not be able to touch them, where they would be able to live a life away from this hellhole, from this dragging serpent that coiled around them all and suffocated them until each and every last drop of blood oozed out of their bodies and souls before discarding them aside and burning them on a large pyre as if they held any importance to anyone.

(He tries to laugh but the steel takes a bite out of his throat and he feels as if he is falling asleep to Pietros’ soft kisses, delicate and firm and utterly wonderful and perhaps this is what the afterlife is, warmth and the promise of tomorrow. 

He thinks he will just wake up under the care of Medicus and he thinks he will call for Pietros, apologize for the fool that he has been. ) 

iv. 

The days seem to drag on like a death bell ringing for him. 

(He thinks of the birds, how they can lift their wings and fly away, away from this shit hole, away from prying hands and eyes and bruises)

He doesn’t realize he’s been dead ever since he and Barca parted ways, wine coursing through his veins as he laughed and drank and he felt wonderful, as free as a bird wrapped up in the pleasures and sounds that surrounded him.

He didn’t know that things had gone terribly wrong, with the demons dragging away his Barca and the Romans laughing as if nothing had happened.

(He notices the bruises that form, of Gnaeus’ stare and longing grins. His skin turns and coils and it is as if he is made of maggots, bursting and writhing at the seams to see the light, pouring out of him like a monstrosity. He is nothing more than a broken shell of a boy. ) 

He thinks of a world where men like Gnaeus and Ashur would not exist, thinks of men like Spartacus who have some seed of kindness in their souls. 

(He thinks of all that he has lost and he holds no remorse as he ties the rope, says farewell to the feathered birds who coo and he leaves the world in a flurry of feathers)


End file.
